The Fallen Souls
by Blayce
Summary: The rumble showed how fierce the Greasers could be, but when have the Socs showed any sort of fear? Everyone had known the day would come when trouble would erupt once more on the wrong side of the town, but this time some might not be so lucky. "There's a middle ground—somewhere in between the Greasers and the Socs—where three of the bravest people I've ever met were killed..."
1. Chapter 1

Hello, everyone!

This is my first FanFiction and I hope you all enjoy it! I've been working on it the past while, what with a strange connection to _The Outsiders_, so this is the first chapter.

I feel like the book left something open in the end; there was something that didn't quite add up. The Socs ran first in the rumble, but what is stopping them from coming back again?

In this story, you will see the events of a post-_Outsiders_ world in which the Socs do come back (in a very rugged way at that).

Enjoy and feel free to leave any comment. I'm not going to say "no flaming" or "don't be mean" because, in reality, what's stopping you from doing so? Plus, some of those comments might be the most beneficial to my creativity and story. I'm not encouraging the practice of mean commenting in any way, but what I'm saying is truly just food for thought.

**I do not own _The Outsiders_ in any way, shape, or form. The story you are about to read does not reflect the opinions or viewpoints of anyone involved with the book or movie.**

* * *

**- The Fallen Souls -**

_It doesn't matter who ran first-Socs are still Socs and Greasers are still Greasers._

The green-eyed boy sat lousily at the table with dim light from the table lamp flickering every now and again. His mind racked the possible ideas for his letter as his hand flicked a yellow pencil rhythmically against the wooden desk. Eyes closed and lips drawn into a firm confusion, he scratched the back of his head through his fading blond hair before returning to his pencil-flicking. Laughs rang through the unfinished wooden door, disrupting his concentration before they faded, quietness prevailing once more. A small gust of wind entered the window and rustled his bed's sheets as well as the blank papers that would soon be filled with words written in careful cursive. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be until he could sort out what he was attempting to write.

Unbelievably, it had only been a few months since Ponyboy's life had been so horrendously tossed about what with Johnny's and Dallas's tragic deaths. Unlike the rest of the boys in the unorganized gang, he had been the one closest to those two before they were viciously taken away from the world. He had watched Johnny take his last breath and seen Dally crumble to the ground cold, wet asphalt under the lightly illuminating streetlight. The others weren't there when the church burned down and they weren't around when Johnny, in Ponyboy's defense, killed Bob. They say they suffered, but if they did, they didn't show it. Then again, maybe he didn't show it either. Pony woke every night in a cold sweat from dreams of Johnny's death, only to find out that the dreams were all too real. When he thought about that week in school and all of the terrible things that happened, he couldn't help but shudder and cringe. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he was scared to just leave the house after that week. Maybe his reasoning for not talking about it was for pride's sake; pride being the one thing he and Darry had in common.

His head snapped up, realizing that he had almost fallen asleep on his desk, and he continued to think about what to write. He'd already pulled his grade up at the end of last year from a D- to a B+ with his experience paper about, well, his wretched experiences of that week, so he needed something else. It was the beginning of his sophomore year and he wasn't about to get a bad grade to start off the school year. The assignment was to "write a letter to the teacher to introduce yourself", as the paper in front of him read. He hated these assignments because it meant telling yet another teacher how he grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, lives with his two brothers, is a flat-out greaser, and probably won't be going to college. The only difference this year was that he had seen three people die in one week; what interest his teacher would have in knowing that he had no idea.

He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to get himself back on the right track of thinking. Picking up the pencil which he had unknowingly dropped, he focused his eyes on the top right corner. "Ms. Cliffton, Period Thre—" another laugh roared through the door and surprised Ponyboy to the extent of his pencil flying out of his hand and landing on the floor next to him. He whipped his head to glare angrily at the innocent door before returning to the paper to see a large line running diagonally across his paper. In a flurry of anger, he kicked his chair back, picked up the pencil, and threw it against the wall before throwing open his door and walking to the main room. His brothers were sitting on the couch, laughing at the television when Pony stalked in.

"Did you see the hammer?! Ahaha!" Sodapop shouted, bending over, holding his stomach, and laughing so hard that he was silent. His greased back hair was bouncing a little bit and his rolled-up sleeves passing his elbows as they unraveled.

Two-Bit was slipping down on the couch in his own fit of laughter, unable to respond to Soda's question. "When Mickey hit him with the hamm—" he cut himself off in an effort to stop laughing, but was completely unsuccessful. Eventually, he slid low enough on the couch that he was about to fall off and had to push himself up.

"Hey, you two punks," Darry said with a smirk on his face as he walked into the room. He scooted a slight bit passed the still angry Ponyboy and looked at the two who were still cracking up. "Why don't you at least try to keep it down a'right?" He looked at his youngest kid brother and mouthed sorry before looking back at the other two. "Hey, Two-Bit, if you don't cool down a bit you're outta the house, you dig?"

"Yeah, yeah," the bum rumbled as he continually attempted to stop giggling.

"We stoppin' your cooking Dar?" Sodapop questioned, looking up at Darry with somewhat of pleading blue eyes. If Soda would have been serious with his question, or had he been younger than eighteen, the oldest brother would probably have just walked out of the room, smirking the whole way back to the kitchen. Now, though, he seemed a bit less forgiving.

"You watch your mouth, little buddy, or you ain't gettin' any food tonight," he replied, poorly hiding a smile behind at appeared to be an intense stare. He turned back to Pony, who was clearly still angry, and patted him on the shoulder before returning to the kitchen.

Without saying anything from the time he got up from his chair, Ponyboy walked back to his room in less of an angry haze than he was before and shut the door. His hand found its way to the small knob on the door handle and he turned it so it was locked. He walked over to his bed and lay down for a moment; mind burnt out from brainstorming ideas for his paper, and let his eyes close. The wind blew into his room again, this time ruffling his hair and freezing a small part of his right arm. He thought of the wind on the night he and Johnny fell asleep in the lot, when he was being dunked in the fountain, on the night of the rumble, and on the street when Dally died because it seemed these days those were the only things he could compare anything to. A tear fell from his left eye and formed a small wet circle on the sheets. He couldn't get those thoughts out of his head and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

Although he'd shut his door to get some privacy and be able to concentrate on his paper, he still heard some laughter resonating through the house. A lower voice, which he connected with Darry, was thrown back and silence filled the place again. An occasional pan drop and light curse came from the kitchen, but that was to be expected with Ponyboy's oldest brother having worked so hard this week.

For whatever reason, Darry had this delusional idea that Pony would get to college, and he wasn't sure why. There was only a portion of Ponyboy's mind that could comprehend the idea of going to college and that was based on the fact that he could probably get a scholarship and Soda and Darry were both working full-time. That was it. The rest of his mind was set on the idea of graduating, if possible, and getting a job to help support the house. Actually, to be truthful, he didn't know what he was going to do when he graduated. Well, the job situation was for sure, but what would he do after that? Darry could probably get any girl he wanted—maybe even a Soc—and Sodapop could, too. They'd probably get married and Pony would be like Two-Bit: bumming around one of their houses until he died. In fact, Two-Bit would probably still be around the Curtis brothers into his thirties. That scared Pony into a small shiver.

Wind entered the window once more and Ponyboy got up, hair depressing itself as he rose off the sheets, and moved over to pick up his pencil. He stretched his back and sat down in his chair. His jade eyes moved back to the sheet in front of him the large line darting across it as if trying to escape the blue lines. He erased it smoothly and knocked the erasures into the floor. Scooting his chair in toward the desk, he finished his name, teacher's name, and date at the top right of the paper and moved the pencil toward the space on the sheet. Indenting, he took a deep breath and wrote the first thing that came to his mind.

"There's a middle ground—somewhere in between the Greasers and the Socs—where three of the bravest people I've ever met were killed. They died, not because of blades, heaters, or even the people behind them, but because of the idiotic idea that one group is better than another."

"Pony, Soda! Dinner!" Darry called from the kitchen, scaring Ponyboy again. This time he wasn't writing anything so there was no annoying line across the paper, thankfully. He thought he would have killed someone himself if there was. Standing up from his chair and placing the pencil next to the beginnings of his letter, the blond Curtis unlocked his door and walked out toward the kitchen. Behind him, another slow swirl of cold wind blew in and shut the door before he could.

Two-Bit stretched on the couch as Sodapop got up and turned off the television. He sat up from his own position and moved toward the door. "Hey all, thanks for lettin' me stay her for a while," he pulled open the door and began pushing the screen.

"No problem, ya ol' bum," Soda said, laughing. "No hammers," he laughed as he sat down at the table.

"Got that right. See ya!" He turned around and shut the door while Darry brought a pan full of mushroom soup over to the table. He also brought over some chocolate milk for Soda and Pony before sitting down himself. Ponyboy looked out the front window to see Two-Bit doing a front flip off of the last step near the front door. He let himself smile for the first time that night and went over to get some spoons and forks for everybody.

Pulling open the drawer, he heard what sounded like a squeal. Confused as to what the sound was, he pushed closed and pulled open the drawer once more, but there wasn't a sound. Darry had just sat down, but it looked as if he was listening for something as well. Pony looked at Soda who was turned backwards and staring out the window. He closed the drawer quietly, not having pulled out utensils, and walked over to peer through the blinds. As he was walking, he heard yells coming from what sounded like a small bit down the block and hurried his pace toward the window. When he flicked open a blind, he saw a nightmare come to life.

A gunshot rang through the house.

Before Darry could react, Ponyboy was out the door and in the street. The screen door smacked the doorway while his steps echoed through the small front yard. He pushed the gate open harder than he meant to, knowing so by the clash of the iron as he turned left. His feet hit the ground at lightning pace toward the scene which hailed the shot and his heart raced when he saw what had happened.

At the far end of the scene were three Socs, one with a heater, smoke still rising into the air from the barrel. On the ground in front of him was Two-Bit lying cold and white-faced with blood seeping through his shirt. His hair lay in a mess on the sidewalk, a blade about an inch from his right hand, his left holding the left part of his stomach where the bullet had clearly entered. His eyes bounced up to Ponyboy's sending a clear, frightening message: _run_. The teen's jade eyes widened in fear while his feet spun on the cement and darted back for the gate. The blood drained from his face and his fingertips became cold in a sudden gust of wind.

Two more gunshots broke the peaceful serenity of the night.

The blond teen fell forward onto the sidewalk while stinging pain overtook his back and right leg. Reaching behind him, he felt something warm underneath his shirt before another crack echoed through the neighborhood. His right foot now felt pain as well and he laid his head down on the square of cement. His vision became fuzzy and his mind fogged over. If this is what being shot felt like, then it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Maybe he would die. That didn't sound so bad at this point either. Actually, if this was what death is, it wasn't bad at all; peaceful somehow.

Whatever bit of reality left in his mind was used up on comprehending the words of what sounded like strangers. Someone ran passed him, stepping on his finger and someone else picked up his head. He felt a warm liquid across his forehead. His eyes closed, but all he knew was that his vision was gone. _You're gonna be alright, little buddy. _He thought he'd heard something like that, but it could've been his imagination. _You're gonna be fine. No one's dying today. _That actually sounded like something Dallas said to Johnny before he…

Ponyboy lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, everyone!

So let me begin this chapter by saying that, yes, I am aware this was released a day after the first chapter. I think we can all agree that we have those random bursts of creativity and it just so happens that I had one today.

I'm loving where the story's headed (I'll be honest and say I'm pretty proud of the story). It took quite a bit of work today, but I didn't consider it work as much I did just time flying by!

That being said, enjoy the chapter and, once again, leave any comment you like. I'm open to anything: mean, flaming, corrections, things you liked, etc.

And, for redundancy's sake, I am not promoting flaming or mean comments, but who's going to be there to stop you?

Enjoy!

* * *

**- The Fallen Souls -**

_It doesn't matter who ran first-Socs are still Socs and Greasers are still Greasers._

_Chapter 2_

Faded vision was becoming clearer, but at an extremely slow rate. The light was not natural and everything was very dim. He saw blurs from another room and watched them come close, drop something soft on him, and walk out. The whole situation was very strange and he felt out of control. Finally he could move his head, but when he looked all he could see was red on his shirt and sheets. Everything was wet and red. Mind unable to comprehend what was going on, he let his head fall back onto what he assumed was a pillow. When his head stopped, though, he felt dizzy and there was serious pain on his forehead. He would try and feel what it was, but his hand wouldn't move.

Things were finally beginning to come into shape and he made out something that looked like his bedroom. The blurs that were going by looked like his brothers and he tried to call for Darry. Instead, a low rumble came out—not something either brother would have registered as him calling for them. When he attempted to lift his head once more, the pain on his forehead grew and he had to drop it. Now he not only was confused, but he felt like he was going to be sick. He attempted calling Darry once more, but there was no luck. This time at least something like a whisper escaped his lips, nothing more.

He could move his fingers a small bit and eventually his whole hand. His arm was fast to follow and he tried to feel his forehead. What he found upon the touch was a serious stinging and, when he saw his fingers, what was clearly blood. In a panic, he let his arm fall back onto the dark red sheets and tried to call for his brothers again. No luck. The pain in his forehead grew and he was now noticing stabbing pains in his back and right foot. The stabbing grew tremendously and soon he was trying not to cry from the near torment.

"Soda!" Ponyboy finally managed to yell. He felt lightheaded from the head wound and now from the gunshot wounds on the rest of his body. "Soda! Darry!"

Sodapop appeared in a matter of seconds with a cold cloth. His eyes looked frantic and, but he was clearly trying to hide it. He placed it on his brother's forehead, causing him to squirm in more pain than he had been before. The only thing that he could get his mind to stick to was not crying. He had barely cried at all in the past few years and he knew his brothers, well Darry, at least, wouldn't be able to stay calm if he did.

Darry walked briskly to Pony's bedside with some dry cloths to wrap around his brother's foot and to place under his back.

"Hey, Pony, Soda and I are gonna move you just a bit," Darry said, attempting to be soothing. "I know it hurts, I know it, but we gotta do it. On the count of three, a'right?" Ponyboy didn't respond, but Darry looked at Sodapop and nodded anyways. As he said, on the count of three they rolled Pony quickly into his side, despite the brother's yells of pain, and Soda quickly swapped out the towels that were bloody from his wounds with new, slightly damp ones. Darry rolled him back again and took the cold cloth that Soda had carried in, putting it on his kid brother's forehead. He noticed a tear falling down Ponyboy's face and wiped it quickly before Pony could notice.

Kneeling down, he looked dreadfully at his brother's pain-filled face. Ponyboy was helpless with these gunshot wounds and nothing he could do could change that. Sodapop ran out of their room and toward the kitchen for more towels and quickly ran toward Darry's room.

"Hey, Dar," Ponyboy grumbled through the pain. He crunched up again when his foot wound accidentally hit the sheets on the bed. Darry ran over to readjust his foot, which had, since the accident, stopped bleeding for the most part. Ponyboy continued, "I don't suppose we got new red sheets for the bed, huh?" He put on a fake smile which was quickly lost once more in the faces of his torment.

Darry smiled a bit too in an effort to make his brother feel better. "Nah, Pony, we uh," he looked down speedily, wiping one of his own rare tears so his brother wouldn't see. He changed the subject stealthily and looked back up with a slightly more shining expression, if possible. "You really got yourself in a bundle here, buddy." His single laugh was forced and it faded quicker than he would have liked. He decided it best to tell the good news. "Um, Pony, the ambulance is on its way—"

"How about Two-Bit," Ponyboy interjected through gritted teeth. "Is he alright?"

Despite being a bit shocked at this question, Darry answered calmly. "He's doin' fine. He's in the other room." He finished his statement just when a loud yell came from Darry's room down the hall. The oldest brother turned his head toward the door, about to get up and go see what was wrong, but figured it would be best to stay with Ponyboy. Soda could handle whatever was going on in there.

"He's doin' real good, huh?" Pony joked, laughing but stopping immediately when the slight bouncing became too much for his pain. He pressed down the cold cloth on his forehead, wincing and sucking in air to pull through. Darry ruffled his brother's hair lightly in an effort to make him feel better. Secretly, it also helped put his nerves at ease a bit, though he wouldn't tell anyone else that.

"You just worry 'bout yourself, little buddy," Darry soothed, still combing through Ponyboy's faded blond hair. He saw his brother relax a bit and attempted to control a content smile. While he hoped Pony would pass out again to avoid further pain, he knew it was a long wish. They sat there in silence for a small while, Ponyboy quietly grumbling in pain every few seconds.

Ponyboy said in a quieter tone, "Hey, Dar?"

"Yeah, Pon?"

The teen took a moment to get up the courage to ask his question. "You don't think Mom and Dad are lookin' down on us, do you?"

Darry thought about it for a moment before answering. He wasn't quite sure why his brother would want to know about their mother right now, but he thought up an answer to give Ponyboy a bit of relief from the matter. "I reckon she's not there right now. Probly knowin' that we can get by on our own, why?"

Ponyboy lay on the bed with the same emotion on his face that he'd had since he woke up. There was more silence in the room and a bit of tension before he responded. "I guess I just don't want her to see how weak I am." Darry's spirits fell. "Maybe she'd think I was being weak or something by laying here and not going to check if—" he winced in pain, stopping for a moment, "if Two-Bit was okay." He opened his eyes slightly to check if Darry was alright. He hadn't said anything for a while, but his expression was blank. Ponyboy closed his eyes tightly this time.

Darry remained silent and blank-faced. He was looking at Ponyboy though, so he had been listening. Since his brother wasn't doing anything and he didn't really get an answer, Ponyboy tried something he knew nobody would really approve of. He clearly was still lightheaded, but he didn't care; he needed to go see if Two-Bit was okay. He didn't clearly remember was happened, but he knew enough to safely say that he and his buddy had been shot by someone. Gathering all of the courage he could, he tried sitting up.

Darry took hold of him by the shoulders and rather roughly pushed him back onto the bed. Ponyboy's head hit the pillow and his vision went foggy for a moment. His back injuries caused his muscles to seize up and he tightened himself up in pain.

"You listen here, Pony," Darry said forcefully. He was hanging over Ponyboy and staring directly into his eyes. "Mom'd never think you were weak. If anything she'd tell you that you're brave for stayin' alive. You stop doubtin' yourself just 'cause you're in bed and got an ambulance comin'. If you think she'd say you're weak, just take a look at the sheets around you and tell me again!" He backed off and sat in his chair, putting his head in his hands for a brief second. He didn't dare look up to see what his brother thought of him at the moment and instead decided to keep his head covered by his hands.

The youngest brother didn't doubt himself as much as he was trying to make Darry feel less tense about everything. He had actually taken his mind off the gunshots and Two-Bit for a moment, but now he was circulating everything as he was a minute ago. Darry was turning back into what he was before the gang lost Johnny and Dallas: some sort of parent that Ponyboy didn't really want. Plus, now he was in more pain than he had been since Darry slammed him back onto the bed. More blood dripped onto the pillow from his head wound, making him more scared on top of everything else.

An ambulance siren came into hearing range and, as Darry was about to get up, Sodapop flew out of the bedroom, running toward the front door. When the door slammed, Darry got up, careful not to look at Ponyboy, and went to the front of the house. Ponyboy heard shouting from outside and soon enough two men were carrying stretchers toward the other room.

As Two-Bit was carried out, Ponyboy caught a glimpse of his completely red shirt, not terribly different from his own at that time, and was immediately downtrodden that he wasn't able to save him. That was the reason he left the house in the first place and now he had put pressure on the rest of his family and Two-Bit –more pressure than they deserved. It had only been a few months since he was nearly drowned and now he was in an even wore situation.

"There's another," he heard Sodapop say from the other room. He sounded fairly urgent and Ponyboy felt bad about that as well.

"We can only fit one in the ambulance," the paramedic said from what sounded like behind the front screen door.

A slam sounded from the front of the house which Ponyboy connected with the back of the ambulance closing up. He didn't know how long he could hold out being conscious with his horribly aching head and bloody gunshot wounds. The thought that the bullets were still lodged inside him made him particularly queasy.

Another loud noise could be heard and Darry's voice resonated into the room. "Soda, they have another one on the way. That's the best they can do."

The youngest brother thought he heard some sort of crying coming from the front room. "Why did they take Two-Bit then, huh? Why did he get to go when he only had one shot in him? Pony's got it worse right now!" Soda said loudly. Ponyboy felt better that Two-Bit was not as badly wounded as he was; that was the last thing a guy needed who was in a rough time like him. He heard a stifled cry before he heard Darry say thank you and apologize to the paramedic. The door shut, the talking ceased, and soon enough Sodapop was walking in by his younger brother. Darry sat down at the table, head in his hands once more, while Soda took his former seat.

"Hey, Pony, I'm sorry you had to hear that," he began, speaking through a clogged throat and wiping his face clear of any tears that might have sprouted. At this point, with so many tears shed that night, nobody really cared. "You know, you did the right thing. I don' care what Darry says. You did the right thing a guy should do by goin' out there to watch out for Two-Bit."

"Nah, you did the right thing by staying inside. Y'all didn't need this for me tonight—or ever, actually," Ponyboy managed to get out.

Sodapop sat back in the seat, looking at his brother meaningfully. His brown eyes dug into Ponyboy's soul so incredibly deep that he wasn't sure what to do. Then Sodapop abruptly got up, walked to the side of the doorway and kicked it with all of his force, making Pony jump. His green eyes popped, but he didn't notice any pain in his head, back or foot. He was too focused on his brother who was obviously crying and not trying to hide it. He did, however, notice Darry staring at Soda as well with the same expression as he was.

"Why does this happen to us?" Soda questioned quietly, looking at both brothers alternatively. "Why don't this happen to Socs, huh?" he asked, looking out the window. His anger was growing dramatically. "They get what? They get maybe a week's probation er somethin' and we get shot and get nothin' but grief in return! You tell me how that's fair!" Sodapop hit his greased brown hair on the door frame. He was now sobbing, attempting only now to wipe the tears from his face.

Darry stood up from his seat, acting carefully around his brother. "That's just the way things are, little buddy—"

Soda's red eyes now glared at Darry and his anger had reached an all-time high. "WHY IS IT THE WAY THINGS ARE? WHY IS OUR BROTHER LAYING THERE BLEEDING TO DEATH AND THE GODDAMNED SOCS JUST GET TO GET IN THEIR CAR AND PRETEND ALL THIS NEVER HAPPENED?" He now punched the wall with all of his force, cracking his knuckles. "WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN?" Foot kicking the doorframe rhythmically with each word, he gritted his teeth in fury and cried a bit louder. Every inch of him was filled with anger and he could no longer control himself. "We gotta do somethin'. We need to do SOMETHING. This has gotta stop." He whipped his head to look at Ponyboy who was, completely understandably, rather fearful of the tension that had escalated in the past few minutes. "We can't lose anyone else and we definitely can't lose you." Dried out, he trudged over to the bed where Pony lay, knelt down, and threw his head onto the blood-soaked sheets. He relaxed there for a moment, no one daring to bother him, before pulling his head up. "Pony, I'm sorry. It's just… they were gonn' kill you and we wouldn't'a been able to live without you an'… I'm sorry." He stood up solemnly and went to sit back in the chair next to his little brother.

Darry walked cautiously into the room at a loss of what to say. He said the first thing that came to his mind in hopes of making the situation better for everyone. He gently placed a hand on Sodapop's shoulder, who was still wiping the last of his tears from his cheeks, and looked over at Ponyboy. "You ain't gonna die today. Not now, not ever." He crouched down next to Soda and pulled his face lightly to look into his eyes. "And just 'cause it's the way things are doesn't mean it's gotta stay like that." Now, looking at both of them, he figured out what he was really trying to say all along. "They aren't gonna get the best of us because they treat us like trash. They aren't gonna win in the end." Looking down at the ground before continuing, he closed his eyes tightly and deliberately before regarding his brothers once more. "We ain't gonna lose because we're greasers. We're gonna win because we're all a family." A siren sounded once more in front of the house and Darry and Soda got up immediately to go get the stretcher.

Ponyboy was left again, noticing his wounds and trying to ease the pain by thinking of other things. Maybe Darry was right: we'll win the fight because we're family. He and his brothers were family and so were Steve and Two-Bit. Plus, they had the whole of four people looking down on them to help them out. He thought of Johnny climbing the bars at the playground and Dallas telling him how much of a kid he was. He thought about his parents rooting for them and helping them in every way they could. He knew that they wouldn't be torn down because they were the closest gang on the entire planet. For the first time that night, Ponyboy didn't feel anything but peace and happiness.

"He's in here," Darry said, popping his brother's dreaming.

Coming back to reality hurt the most because he was reminded of the gunshots. Ponyboy acted rather embarrassed when the paramedics came in and saw all of his blood on the sheets. Although they tried to hide their expressions, their mixed looks of disgust and astonishment seemed to win over anything else they had in their minds.

"We're going to lift you, alright? This may hurt a bit," one of the medics said and, without giving a warning, they hoist Ponyboy onto the stretcher. He immediately crunched up in pain, but tried to hide it from his brothers as he left. Like the paramedics with their expressions, he had a strong feeling he was unsuccessful.

For the last time that night, he heard the front door slam as they carried him out toward the ambulance through the particularly cold night. Had it been this cold when he went out for the first time? He didn't remember. He noticed the stars were actually showing; it was a clear night. He learned in Astronomy that the constellation right above his house at the moment was Orion. It looked so pure in the sky. Why did bad things happen to innocent people? Why did two near-death experiences have to happen under such a clear, kind night?

The small bumps on the way into the ambulance weren't as bad as being taken off of the bed for the first time, but they still induced their own amount of pain. Darry and Soda both insisted on going with them to the hospital, but they only allowed Darry on seeing as he was the oldest. Soda said that he'd be behind them the whole time.

By this point, with the amount of blood that Ponyboy had lost, he was becoming a bit woozy again.

"This might pinch a little bit," a paramedic said frankly. It didn't pinch—probably because of the other more horrid pain he'd felt that night. "Can you count backwards from ten for me?"

His blond hair falling back onto the stretcher and green eyes closing, Ponyboy did his best to follow that order. "Ten, nine, eight…" he trailed.

_…seven, six, five—_he was out.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, everyone!

As you have probably already figured out, this is the newest chapter of the story The Fallen Souls. I feel that this chapter really begins to bring out the issues that the Greasers face and, as we have already seen, the brothers continually grow closer.

We all have those moments with siblings or close friends where we just feel the bond grow closer than it has in the past and I hope that you can all see this sort of thing within this chapter (I am also aware that it is a bit longer, so I hope you can all hang in there).

One last thing before I let you read to your heart's content. I get the odd feeling that some of those who read this will see the part where Sodapop hugs Steve. Do realize that he is in a mix of emotions as well as an incredible lack of sleep. He also just watched his brother nearly die in front of him for the second time in under a year-needless to say it's an emotional time. It's a brotherly hug and Steve doesn't exactly appreciate it as you will see.

Thank you so much for waiting the week or so for this next chapter and I hope that you all like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**- The Fallen Souls -**

_It doesn't matter who ran first-Socs are still Socs and Greasers are still Greasers._

_Chapter 3_

_"Don't shoot him! He's just a kid!"_

_ "Wait!"_

_ "Stop aiming those guns at him!"_

_ "He didn't do anything!"_

_ "The gun's not loaded! You'll kill him!"_

_ "No!"_

_ "You stupid idiots!"_

_ He lost vision and crashed to the pavement._

"Come here, Soda," Darry said urgently. Ponyboy's eyes were coming into focus and serious déjà vu came over him. Was he still in their house? Where was the blood on his sheets? "He's waking up. Get over here! It's okay, bud, it's okay. No need to be scared, it's alright."

Ponyboy's green eyes caught the light a bit quicker than they had last night and he found Darry and Sodapop at his right side. Everything was brighter than it had been before so he took a moment to shake his head and adjust. He found out fairly fast that shaking his head was not the right thing to do and he reached up to rub it. Darry put a hand through his brother's blond hair and Pony put his back as his side. Looking up, he unknowingly had a confused look on his face. The memories of the night before were flowing back and he was trying to catch up with everything.

"You were talking about Dally for a while," Sodapop responded to Pony's rather confused expression. "Then you yelled. You're awake now and everythin's fine. The Doc said you'd get better soon and we could go home." His depressed chocolate eyes dug deeply into Ponyboy's mind and he had to look away for a moment. In those few seconds, he surveyed the hospital room. It was white; white all over. A clipboard hung near the door, but nothing else seemed to bring color to the room.

When he looked down, he saw the white sheets and plastic white handles on his bed. No wonder Dally wanted to get out—lying in these beds with nurses and doctors around you must've felt horrible. Ponyboy hated everything about hospitals and always had. His situation just made him feel even less comfortable, if possible, being confined to a bed. Plus, with wires strung to him from a few directions and a now all-too-noticeable pain in his foot and back, he was beginning to feel pretty lightheaded.

"Pony," Darry seemed to call worriedly. "Pony, you alright?"

Wary about talking with his dizziness, he gently lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth to take a deep breath. Feeling relieved of the dizziness, Ponyboy allowed a few words before resuming his quietness.

"You're lucky I'm not Dally," he said, putting on a slight smile through the pain he was feeling.

"Why's that?" Sodapop asked, walking to the other side of Pony's bed to be closer to him. He knelt down closer than Darry so he could run his hand through his brother's hair.

"'Cause I'd probably stab a nurse to get out of here," Ponyboy laughed quietly. "How'd that be for trouble?"

The brothers laughed along, but Ponyboy had a feeling it was out f relief that he was okay rather than the comedy behind his joke. He didn't blame them. They'd lost two gang members and their parents in a little under a year; he'd be happy that he was alive if it was them.

"Hey, Soda," Darry said, looking up from his youngest brother. Soda regarded him for a moment before looking back at the now heavily breathing Pony. "I'm gonna go check on Two-Bit, okay? I'll be back in a little while."

Ponyboy's jade eyes flicked open and he stared at Darry. How could he have forgotten about Two-Bit? What kind of family was he? "I want to go," he said almost yelling and jolting up so fast that a searing pain ran through every part if his body. He felt extremely weak and took in a sharp breath before collapsing. Sodapop had to catch him with cat-like reflexes and lower him onto the bed slowly. "I really uh," Ponyboy said, closing his eyes and wincing from the pain, "I really gotta go see him. I gotta see how he's doing."

"Not now, little buddy," Darry said, cautiously. His eyes had widened immensely as he spoke to Pony.

"Oh, come on! They could put me in a wheelchair!" he yelled, getting lit up at this point. "I need to see him!"

"Pon, you're not thinkin'," Darry said, not thinking himself before speaking. "The doctor said rest and that's what you'll be doin'."

"I am thinking," he said, pointing a finger at the door while his head reddened slightly. Darry had accused him enough times of not really thinking about something before acting on it and he was beginning to get hyped up. "I'm thinking I need to see Two-Bit. He's family and he's probably in worse shape than I am. Didn't you see him last night?!"

Sodapop, who had been watching the scene unfold, spoke up. "Buddy, you shoulda seen _yourself_ last night." He put on a rather awkward, signature half-smile.

Ponyboy looked at his second oldest brother in unintentional disgust. "You're on his side for this?" He crossed rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, the pain his his back became too much and he had to roll it back onto the bed, thereby forcing himself to look at his two brothers again.

"Hey, Pony, were not sayin' this to hurt you. We want you to get better and to do that you gotta jus lay for a while," Soda soothed, patting his brother's shoulder. Ponyboy quickly knocked his hand away, though and stared at the ceiling. "Darry," Sodapop continued, looking sadly at his older brother, "would it really hurt to see if we could get him in a wheelchair?"

Biting his lip in thought and regarding both brothers, Darry stood up. He looked at the door once and back to the boys. Ponyboy had decided to rejoin the interaction and give Darry his own look of pleading. The oldest brother looked at both of them fiercely. "Fine," he said, "but if the doctor says no, it's no. No questions. Got it?"

Both brothers nodded and Soda looked at Ponyboy with a bit of excitement. Pony would have done the same if his head wasn't hurting so much. Darry looked at him carefully before sticking to his words and going out of the room to ask the doctor.

Soda smiled at Ponyboy and shook his arm lightly. "You might get to get out of bed!"

"Never thought I'd hear that and be excited," Pony said, grinning before taking a breath. "Hey, Soda?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Can you not shake me so hard?" he asked in a small voice. Soda immediately stopped and gave a sheepish smile before doing so. Ponyboy's arm relaxed and he let a laugh run out.

The two brothers sat in silence for a moment while Pony closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander. For a moment, the world was just peaceful. He was going to recover and he would get to go home and be in his own bed once more. The vision was abruptly disrupted by the realization that going home wouldn't fix any of his problems. He thought of a quote by someone he learned about in school, Emerson something. "The soul is no traveler." He thought it meant something like you can't escape your problems by walking away: you have to deal with them. In other words, going home wouldn't get rid of the problems between the Greasers and the Socs and it wouldn't bring Johnny and Dally home. Going home or staying in the hospital an extra day would have no effect on what would happen and he would have to deal with those issues face-to-face. Hiding wouldn't do him any good and escaping them mentally would do nothing either.

The question was how could he stop all of the madness? Two-Bit had been shot last night while leaving their house and Pony had been shot three times for just going out to make sure everything was alright. Both of them could have died like Dallas: greasy hoods with nothing to their name, losing their lives in cold blood and for no reason. They made it through though and now have a second chance. Why was it Johnny and Dallas instead of them? Why did the Socs hate them so much? Was the rivalry between the groups ever going to end? No matter who won what rumble or who had who's girl or who was running away or even, apparently, who was leaving a house and for what reason, the hatred that the Socs threw on the Greasers never seemed to vanish. No one wanted to be the one to try and unify the two groups—he tried, but Cherry really had no interest—and the fight raged on despite the time when Randy talked to him or Dally had Cherry spy for them. There needed to be some way that this could all stop. Ponyboy was actually beginning to feel as Johnny did when they lay in the open lot the night of Bob's murder: lonely and hurt by something he had no power over.

"The doctor said—" Darry began loudly. He walked in rather quickly, nearly slamming the door behind him before seeing what had happened.

Sodapop put a finger up to his lips vigorously while his eyes darted up to Darry. His hand was grasped by Ponyboy's but Pony was asleep, quiet snores released every few seconds. Blond hair fallen back onto the pillow and eyes closed lightly, he seemed peaceful. Darry shut the door behind him as quietly as possible and tiptoed over to the chair next to the hospital bed. He sat down, making the chair creak rather loudly and drawing a dark stare from Soda. The second oldest brother sat down on the bed, not wanting to move his hand from Ponyboy's grip, but not wanting to wake him either. He looked up at his older brother, wanting now to hear what the doctor had said.

"Sorry, what'd he say?" Soda asked, brown eyes unintentionally pleading. He whispered as quietly as he could, but still felt too loud.

"Well...it's not important now. He's asleep and God knows he needs it after last night," Darry said sounding relieved. He looked over at his youngest kid brother before running a hand through his nearly ungreased hair. Looking up at Soda, he said, "He's gotta start thinking. We can't lose more of our family. Two's enough for one year. Hell, two's too much for one year." Blue eyes regarding Ponyboy once more, he sighed. "Two's too much forever." Arms and legs crossed in unison, he let his own eyes close, hoping to catch some sleep himself.

Sodapop, half coherent at this point while seeing everyone else near sleeping, found a spot on the floor in the corner and sat back against the wall. It wasn't the coziest of places, but not having slept at all the night before was enough to put him out no matter the location. He looked up quickly and realized that this was the first time the family had been truly together for a long time. It made him feel a joy he hadn't felt since their mother and father were around; he felt rather childish, actually. His corner felt comfortable and he let himself drift off, dreaming of the whole family back together again.

The hospital room door slammed against the wall, making the room shake a fair amount. Everybody woke with a start: Darry nearly standing up from the chair he was sleeping in, Soda jumping from his sprawled-out position on the floor, and Ponyboy sitting up in his bed. Pony lay back down immediately, taking in a sharp breath from the pain he endured upon sitting up. His back felt sliced and his foot hit the railing to the bed, leaving him in pretty bad shape for a minute.

Two-Bit looked scared for a moment, blue eyes wide with fear at what he'd just done to Ponyboy by slamming the door. Seeing the little guy recover quickly, he walked over to Darry, smiling.

Darry stared at him, both furious and confused. "The hell was that for?!" he shouted, both questioningly and angrily. He smacked Two-Bit on the side of his head, making the wounded guy laugh a bit.

"Well, I'm better. Thought he might be better too," he said reasoning in his head. Looking behind Darry and seeing Pony's eyes squinted together, arms tightly at his sides, made him reconsider what he'd just said. "'Parently not, though…"

Continuing to stare, but losing his anger at Two-Bit's idiocy, Darry just smiled. "Come here ya little…" He grabbed the gang member and gave him a hard noogie.

Two-Bit fought a bit before finally being released by Darry's grip and laughing himself. He walked over to Ponyboy's bed, leaning over the small bed railing and looking, rather nervous. For the first time since Johnny's beating, months ago at this point, he had nothing funny to say. Before saying a word, he looked down as if mad at himself for hurting Pony. Looking back up and into the brother's tired green eyes, he tried to sound sincere. "Hey, bud, sorry I hurt ya." He looked over at Soda who was clearly tired out of his mind exemplified by the dark bags under his eyes. Then, he changed his gaze to Darry who had slightly smaller bags and once more to Pony whose eyes were actually red from the fatigue and pain. "How long've y'all been asleep?" he asked, sounding remorseful.

"Long enough to be hacked that you opened the damn door while the kid's sleepin'," Sodapop said, slapping the back of Two-Bit's head across Ponyboy.

Pony seemed generally uncaring about being woken. He was actually more concerned with Two-Bit than himself. "Hey, how you feelin'?" he asked, rubbing his red-stained eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.

"Feelin' pretty tuff—better than last night, anyway," he responded. "But you, you got three of 'em. You doin' alright, kid?"

Ponyboy threw on as big a smile has he could before responding. "I'm feeling fine. Better than I have in a while."

Darry interjected immediately. "He's foolin' ya. He's not alright and he's really tired. Needs his sleep and he's gotta rest," he said, reaching over and giving Ponyboy a small noogie himself.

Pony swatted his brother's hand away and looked at him in an annoyed fashion. He looked back over to Two-Bit who was now clearly trying to hide the large smile that was broadcast across his face. "I'm really fine," Pony began, staring Darry down. Darry looked sternly back, but Pony disregarded it. "Hey, you wanna tell us what happened last night?"

Two-Bit's smile disappeared and he walked away from the bed for a moment. Not wanting the others to see any sort of scared expression on his face (Pony had had enough worrying to do), he stared out the window of the room until he composed himself. He'd about had it with the Socs and he wasn't sure if he could really relive the night before yet or not. With the amount of hatred he kept bottled up, it was unclear what would happen if he lost it there in the room with them. Plus, with one of the others in the room injured and all three of them having lost parents so recently, he didn't want to burden anyone with more problems that he could so easily just bury inside.

The other three boys waited patiently. They all wanted to know what the South Siders had done to end up shooting at their gang. Fist fighting could be dangerous; pipes and exhausts could be dangerous; blades were definitely dangerous; but heaters were out of the question. How had last night gone from Two-Bit leaving from watching Mickey Mouse to two boys nearly dead on the sidewalk?

Turning around, Two-Bit put on a nonchalant face. "Nah, it was nothin'. They were just wigged out—it's nothin'."

"Couldn't'a been nothing, they nearly killed us," Ponyboy said annoyedly, seeming to admit to the depth of his injuries for the first time. His brothers looked at him with surprised expressions. He actually sounded angry that he didn't know what had happened.

"It wasn't anything, alright? Nothin' you gotta know about—"

The hospital room door slammed against the wall again, making everyone jump once more. Pony remained lying down so he only really hurt his head when he jumped. The other three were a bit more shocked this time, though. Darry looked over with more anger seeping through his skin and eyes in a fury while Two-Bit's eyes widened even more than they had when he came in himself. Sodapop, on the other hand, ran around the hospital bed to the person who'd just entered and gave him a rough, brotherly hug.

"Why the hell'd no one tell me 'bout this whole thing?" Steve yelled, sounding both angry and giddy at the same time. It was a strange mix for the kid. He pushed Soda away after a quick moment in a flurry of excitement with wanting to know what had happened the night before. Unsure of how to start, he just reiterated what he'd already said. "Well?!"

Darry looked down at Ponyboy and back up to Steve, trying to hint what he was about to say. "We were kinda worried about these two first. Sorry we couldn't tell you first," Darry retorted, the fatigue as well as anger finally getting to him.

Steve walked over to the bed with a cool move to his step and noticed the large bandage wrapped around Ponyboy's foot. His focus went up to the boy's completely out-of-it face and back. He heavily patted the bottom of the bandage, causing Pony to wince equally.

Darry walked over and pushed Steve away from his brother. "The heck you doin', kid?!"

"Well, no one'll tell me what's goin' on, I'm gonn' find out for myself," he said frankly.

Darry wasn't sure if Steve was acting stupid on purpose or if that was his actual thought process. He decided on the latter. Backing away and still ticked at what had just happened, he put a hand through his hair. "They were shot. That's why we're here."

Steve's face morphed from dumbfounded to shock in a matter of seconds. He whipped his head to look at Pony and then to Two-Bit. His expression changed once more though: he was now excited. "That's awesome! How many times?!"

"Once," Two-Bit answered dully.

"Three times," Pony responded uniformly.

Steve jumped quickly, shaking the room to everyone else's displeasure, before settling himself. "The story! Is it in the paper? You guys got the paper yet? I should'a looked at it 'fore I left!"

"S'over there if you wanna read it to us," Soda said, more tired than he'd been for the past while. He sat down in his corner again, Two-Bit joining him almost immediately. Darry took a seat in his chair once more and Ponyboy lay comfortably in the bed, eyes closing slowly with the quietness that had ensued.

Steve got to the table and picked up the paper that was sitting on a brown hospital table. He unfolded it and turned around to lean on the edge of the table while everyone got comfortable. They were all incredibly tired, so Steve felt compelled to find the story before everyone fell asleep.

"Found it!" he shouted, stabbing the story with his finger and successfully waking everyone up but Ponyboy.

"Well read it for God's sake," Two-Bit said, crankily.

"Title reads, _Teens put attackers in hospital_," Steve began. Darry and Soda looked at Two-Bit wanting a further explanation. "Says, 'the attacker verbally assaulted and tried to kill three teens last night, stabbing two of them.'"

"The hell'd you do, boy?" Darry questioned, clearly surprised and now fairly awake. He glared at the sunken Two-Bit, quickly accompanied by Sodapop.

Steve continued, "Also says..." He trailed, reading the next line and looking up. Darry and Soda both waited for more while Steve acted nervous. "Says, 'by the time the attacker was shot down, another attacker had confronted the teens, threatening to kill them.'"

Darry's head whipped to Ponyboy who was now wide awake and sitting up carefully. "Did you threaten them?"

"No! The heck, Dar, they had a gun! Why would I mess with that?" Pony yelled angrily, hurting his back in the process.

"I'm not done," Steve said, "It says, 'both attackers will face charges encompassing abuse, threatening to kill, and planning illegal activity."

Soda stood up and walked over to Steve briskly. He hands clenched, he demanded, "Lemme see that." He read through the article, annoyed at the reporter. By the time he reached the end, though, he backed away with his mouth hanging open and surprised eyes.

"What is it?" Darry asked while semi-standing. Sodapop remained silent, making Two-Bit stand up cautiously as well. Both of them advanced toward the paper, but Steve threw it back on the table so they couldn't see.

"Dammit, what does it say?!" Two-Bit yelled, nervously.

Soda started quietly, staring at Ponyboy with depressed eyes. Pony met his gaze and knew something wasn't right. He piped, "What does it say?"

Soda looked down at the ground and told the silent room. "The attackers will face three years to life in jail."


End file.
